Sex, Cars, Dinah

I caught my first glance of her right when I got out of 2nd period Bio. I was sandwiched between two dumpy chicks taking their time in front of me, and my friends clawing to be free of the room from behind, and there she was. She seemed pretty short, 5'3-4" if I had to guess, brunette, fit as hell, doll-face. Honestly, I couldn't see much, the duration of time between me being shoved through the door by Steve and her exiting my periphery being roughly 1.5 seconds, but I was smitten.

After I got the fuck out of the train wreck that was Bio class, I poked my head around the corner for a second look. Hot. Fucking. Damn. She sauntered down the hallway like she was the daughter of a dignitary (I can't explain how her apparent arrogance drove me crazy), and as awful as the girls' school uniforms are, on her it looked tailor-fit. The patch of skin between her socks and skirt was porcelain pale, and her ass was round and pinched. Her hair was streaked with auburn, hiding the darker undertones, and it came down to right around her bra clips outlined on the back of her shirt. I had to position my book bag conspicuously in front of my slacks on the way to French.

In French class I was kind of pissed, because I couldn't remember her face clearly enough to make a good sketch, and her ass was apparently too godly for human hands to ever recreate. I stuck to drawing mutated test-tube babies bearing my teacher's face again, always my fallback. I was tempted to take a peek at the girl with big tits who sat behind me to my right, but I decided against it.

Michael tells me at lunch that she's in fact eighteen and from Cali, and her folks moved over here to take over the First Presbyterian church on Tennyson and 15th. Gloria was friends with her back when she and Michael still lived with their dad. "Dude, she's a fucking pastor's kid, you have a better chance fucking a lamp post."

"If by pastor's kid you mean 'nice ass,' then I agree." Steve laughs and nudges me deliberately. "Too bad you have another piece occupying your time at the moment. Looks like it's time for Steve-O to save the day."

I grab my empty tray and walk off. I didn't want to talk about Stasy. She was moderately attractive, but seemed more so in contrast to most other girls at this school. We shared a birthday in March, but while she had turned eighteen, I actually turned nineteen, since I was held back in third grade. She was 5'7" with short blonde hair (naturally brown), bronze tan, not skinny, but not really overweight either. She has a nice C-cup that she got done this summer. Her and I usually skip out study period after lunch together, since we're both Seniors and Mr. Oberlin doesn't give a fuck, so I go outside to wait for her.

She's on the hood of my 93' Beamer when I get out there, sipping a soda, sitting next to a McDonald's bag, school shirt unbuttoned enough to give me thoughts. I say "hey babe" when I get closer and kiss her mouth, and she kisses back, pauses enough to give me a lustful look and slide a finger up the front of my slacks, licks her top lip when it slides over my cock. I give her a smile and start kissing her again, using my left hand to knock the shit off of my hood. She giggles and shoves her tongue into my mouth, meeting mine, exploring past, coming back for it. I pick her up with one hand across her shoulder blades and one under her thighs, walk around to the driver's side door, get in with her on my lap. I have to pop the steering wheel lever and adjust it for more room, and by the time I finish her hand is already in my pants exploring. I slide mine into her shirt and start playing with her tits, choking her moan with my mouth still on hers. Without breaking contact with my mouth, she manages to climb over into the passenger seat, and once there she pulls my pants and boxers away, exposing my cock. I'm still grabbing and squeezing her tits with my right hand, unbuttoning buttons as they get in my way, and I use my left to shove her yellow head into my lap.

She takes hold of my cock at the base and devours it, stroking and sucking like an animal, using her cherry-colored (and chipped) nails to touch around my abs and rub my balls sporadically. I wasn't especially ripped, but I was proud of my abs, the lines of my abdominal muscles showed clearly, and I had a pretty dark tan as I had a job as Lifeguard at the city pool. I also kept my balls shaved, since Stasy said she had some deep fear that she would choke to death and die from the hair otherwise. She had worked her gag reflex down so that she could fit all eight inches of me down her throat, and she was doing that now, sucking my entire shaft down, brushing her hair away every so often, even though it wasn't long enough anymore to interfere. She had enough saliva built up now that it dripped down my balls and gave me an insane ticklish sensation, but it felt great.

It took all of me to pull her off for a second and grab the visor from the glove compartment to put over the windshield. Immediately after I do she dives back in with her lips wrapped around my cock, and I'm petting her head and telling her "yeah, that's it" and telling myself to breathe so I don't cum early, my left hand feeling her hard nipples, my right up her skirt, tracing her thong line. As she pulls her lips off of my head with a smacking sound, and follows her tongue down to my balls, I lift her skirt (she was crouching on me with her ass poked up in the air toward the passenger window) and start playing absently with her pussy through her thong, the fabric slipping around with my fingers because of her juices. Stasy always gave amazing head (that's why I started dating her in the first place), but I made it a habit of distracting her as much as I could, and I was playing this game now.

My balls are still in her mouth, muting her moans of pleasure as my middle finger is slipping around her clit, it slides right over it and she tries to scream, and I slap her ass and tell her to keep sucking. Her left tit falls out of her shirt then, I slide her thong away and get my fingers all wet playing with her shaved pussy lips. "Ohhh fuck" she moans as her mouth loses my balls, she balances herself as she shudders, losing herself as I slip my middle finger inside of her and start fucking her with it. Stasy's not thinking about anything else for at least a minute, then I pull my finger out and spank her again with my right hand, grab her head with my left and start fucking her face, shoving her up and down as her lips smacked over my head.

My cock is rock hard and fucking purple by now, the veins popping out all over, and I'm losing control, so I go back to her, slide two fingers inside of her and pump them hard, watch her juices trickle down her leg. Her left ass cheek is red from me spanking her, and I start sucking on it while I finger fuck her, and go back to fondling her tits with my free hand. Now she's losing it, and I have to cover her mouth with my hand to keep her from screaming too loud, and she slides her tongue through my fingers and starts licking them as my fingers are back on her clit and she starts jerking uncontrollably and cumming. I push her head back down onto my cock so I can finish as well, but she can barely keep suction, and her left tit is out of her shirt and bobbing with the rhythm of her head. I grab hold of it and start squeezing again, it's firm, and the nipple is hard and distended.

She partially catches her breath and goes back to the sucking, I hold my breath, and tense up from neck to toes, blow my load into her mouth. She chokes on the first burst, but then sucks it up, my cock bouncing in her mouth as more streams of jizz shoot out. I lay my head back and close my eyes, still gasping for breath.

"We've got to break up," I manage. She was still buttoning up her shirt.

"Yeah," she passes a hand over her eyes, brushing the hair away without looking at me, "yeah." She finishes with her shirt, brushes her skirt off, gets out of the car. By then her face was caked with runny mascara.

I fucked up my wooden box in shop, nearly tearing my finger off as well. Luckily I caught myself in time, just gave myself a slice that cut to the bone and a little past.

Later I'm at Michael's house. I come across a shotgun while he's chasing me around with the grenade launcher, so I hang back behind a corner, then cap him in the face when he pops into my view. The strategy worked a few more times till he got his hands on the rocket launcher, three shots, game. I give him a glare. He shoots me a smile. A girl calls out from a few rooms away, and I look over at the doorway just as Kim strides awkwardly past towards the stairs. I laugh. "Kim's here? How's that?"

"Fucking awkward. If your folks ever decide to have another kid, and it's a girl, never date her friends."

"Yeah, ok, I'll try to remember that."

"Feel free to grab a couple of beers from the fridge" he hints with a wry smile. I set my controller down and stumble to my feet, blood rushing to my head. I massage my temples with my thumb and middle finger, come through the door, and collide with someone. I look up, and there she is, knocked against the opposite wall, catching her breath, eyes wide and staring at me. And she was amazing. Her lips direct from France, pinched and smooth and unguarded. Her cheekbones something Europe, something Hollywood. Her hair partially covered her left eye, and it was rich and silky. Her eyes were large, brown, starry, and Spanish, they promised tangos and trills and a break from the monotony and a way out of here. Her neck was a bowl of cream. Her collarbones openly displayed her fragility, openly defended her heart.

Below that was the most perfect female form I think I had ever seen. Her arms were silky paths to her breast, which was in turn the ripe and tender display of her perfect genes, accentuated as it moved with her breath. She probably filled a B-cup. Her waist slid inward, and her hips sloped outward. Graceful legs appeared below the hem of her white summer dress, ending with elegant feet in sandals. My mouth was probably still open as she shoved past me. She was everything I would never deserve. I got the beers.

A few weekends later and it's a three-day, and I'm at Kyle's parent's unsupervised house-turned-club for a party, and it's about two thirty and I'm moderately drunk, about as drunk as I could get. I didn't really know Kyle that well, but I guess you'll like anyone if they supply enough alcohol to make you drunk enough to like them. I wish I could say I was pondering that thought at that very second, but in reality I was just being as dumb as fuck. Dinah was there (Michael told me her name) and she was sitting alone on a couch in the Kyle's-last-nameses living room, and I was trying to make my suave approach and I was three shots of shitty tequila beyond suave, but there she was.

As I came through the doorway, another guy with his tail between his legs passed me. They had been filtering through here all night for a chance at Dinah, and he was probably headed the way of the rest of them now that he was spurned, to look for a consolation. This was beginning to feel like a sexual tyranny, and I kept seeing images of myself turning around and forgetting about all of this in my head, but I no longer had the restraint to battle my inertia, so on I went, towards Dinah. My mouth opened, "can I get you a d-"

"No." Brick wall. My momentum disappeared suddenly. "No, thank-you," she added, then looked up as if to further soften her words. She saw me, smiled, "you're Michael's friend."

I was probably blushing, but my entire body was too hot to tell how my face was holding out. She was smiling so brightly, a dimple catching the shadow on her left cheek. I hope I wasn't blushing. I was probably blushing.

"Yeah, sorry about..."

"It's alright. I wasn't expecting a truck in the hallway." She smiled sarcastically, then caught herself. "Or... you know."

"Are you sure you don't want something to drink?" My processor was stuck in an infinite loop.

"No, really. I'm trying to stay away from the alcohol." I noticed her clothes now, spaghetti-strapped jumper, baby blue, which fit her well, and tan open-toed pumps.

"I'm pretty sure the juice is spiked" I said, glancing at the empty punch glass on the coffee table, "heavily."

"Oh!" She let her guard down. She looked genuinely horrified, "I was wondering why I felt a little heady, I thought it was the temperature or just a headache or something..." She put her hand to her forehead, looked into my eyes from below it. I was feeling heady as well, from influences other than alcohol.

"Your name's Dinah, right?" She nodded, still looking at me. "Let's go outside." I needed air, my head was light. I didn't wait for a response, but she followed me out.

And then we're on the porch. The air was cool, and smelled of potting soil and cigarettes, and Dinah's fragrance, the humidity was a blanket around us. Dinah looks utterly serene in the moonlight, the emerging redness of her face hidden, and I kiss her. I kiss Dinah in my intoxicated state, having nothing to say, or show, or hide, and she kisses back. I hold her shoulder with one hand and slowly back her to the railing of the porch, resting my other hand behind her for support. Her lips were so vulnerable, ready to be taken, firm, and yet sensually soft against mine. She didn't know how to kiss, and her eyes were wide with surprise.

She pulls back: "I... I really can't... or shouldn't... or-" Her lips were moving with speech, and taunting me, and I draw my mouth in and kiss her harder. She hesitates, but feels wanting, needing. Her mouth was sweet strawberries in mine, I chewed the stems off. Hidden in her eyes was the nostalgic memory of my first elementary crush, and I could see then that it must have been Dinah all along, however impossible that was.

We continue kissing, and I carry her to my car in my arms. I open the door to the back seat, struggling to get both of us through. I can feel Dinah's arms, her cheeks, I taste her ears and neck, I hold her shoulders. I can hear her soft breath, I draw her tongue out with mine. I memorize every centimeter of her mouth, exploring it several times over, and she finds her way around mine. Her hand is on the back of my head, feeling my curls, mine is on hers, fingertips moving around her scalp. All the while my left hand is slowly tracing, meandering, veering, and retracing it's way up her ivory leg.

Her hand stops and tenses up around my hair, and she lets out a gasp, her face reddening again as my left hand completes its journey and begins to explore her from under her dress. She moves her hand toward mine, but my fingers slip between her lips, and she's completely distracted, and grabs onto the armrest on the door behind her head as I discover her further. I stop kissing her now, and my eyes are looking into hers, she's looking at mine, but beyond. I'm learning her now, my middle finger had found her clit, and I start rubbing it through her cotton panties. She starts moaning, her hand tightening around my forearm, and her breath becomes uneven.

I continue working her, she's very wet now, and begin to concentrate on my right hand, making sure no part of her goes untouched, working in from the arms, taking her collarbones, feeling her stomach, spiraling my way toward her tits. I begin to move my left hand more rapidly, adding more fingers to the rotation, and her moisture is soaking through her panties onto my fingers. Her shoes fall off of her feet onto the floor, and I notice that we're fogging up the windows, and there is no-one in this world but the two of us.

My right hand continues, now coaxing the straps off her shoulders, now slipping her dress down her torso. Her bra was white and slightly padded, but she seemed tight against it, constrained. I use my left hand to slide her panties aside, then I set it free. She's squirming now, her lips are parted and her breath is ragged, her hands tightening on my arm and the armrest. I graze her clit, and she moans uncontrollably. My right hand is tracing the edge of her bra, I slide a finger under here and there mischievously, feeling the muscles and lines of her back then continuing. The clip snapped open, and her bra lost form as she broke free. I knead her tits, so firm, and slightly swollen with pleasure, heaving up and down with her breath. Her nipples are hard and red, about the size of quarters. My ring finger is now exploring inside of her, slipping in and out, and she is biting her lip.

I pull her dress up over her head, and inspect her body. Her legs sloped inward and converged on her pussy, pink and moist, glistening in the moonlight, light hair spreading a short distance outward, still mostly hidden by her white lace-trimmed panties. Her torso and legs were in perfect proportion, and her neck had red marks on it from my kissing. I unfasten my belt, my pants, pull my boxers down. Dinah is looking at me, her eyes unsure and fearful. I slide myself inside of her, and a cry escapes her lips, she's staring somewhere past the car, into the stars. She was tight and new, and I could feel the texture of her against me as I pushed farther inside of her, as far as I could. She didn't bleed.

Whimpers escape Dinah's lips as I plunge into her again and again, she's looking at me again, and tears are streaming down her cheeks, her hand on my chest. My hands are holding her body, feeling her tits, now dimpled with the cold. And again, I slide my cock inside of her, and I'm grunting now, my breath competing with hers, my hips meeting hers, the car is shaking slightly, and my heart is racing. Then her hand falls from my chest, and her head falls back as I feel her tighten around me, and she is quivering and gasping and I am exploding inside of her and she is mine.

I watch as she puts her dress back on and slips her shoes back onto her feet. And then I drive her home. We dated for that following summer. She was nice, although she never really could give a decent blowjob. She worked with me as a Lifeguard, got a nice tan, she suited me better then. That's all there is.